


Hope, the wonder drug \\ Don't work no more, think I took too much

by riptxdes (fukmylyf)



Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, percy is an absolute saint and deserves so much, this is bad im sorry i just wanted to rub my little traumatized hands all over monty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fukmylyf/pseuds/riptxdes
Summary: Monty has a mental breakdown. (Post TGGTVAV)
Relationships: Felicity Montague & Henry "Monty" Montague, Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton
Comments: 9
Kudos: 40





	Hope, the wonder drug \\ Don't work no more, think I took too much

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this mid mental breakdown to cope, and iv only read tggtvav and the gentlemans guide to getting lucky, so no spoilers in the comments, and im sorry if this is all terribly out of character, or the grammar is awful, or anything. feel free to tear me apart in the comments
> 
> title from a good song never dies by saint motel

Monty wasn't really sure what was wrong this time. 

He had… everything he'd ever wanted, more even, and yet, here he was, lying on his bed staring holes into the ceiling, listening to Percy play away at his fiddle in the courtyard while the rest of the Eleftheria's crew sang along, only somewhat in key, and trying desperately to keep himself from crying. He felt so _lonely_. He was on a beautiful Greek island, with the love of his life within reach, his relationship with his sister patched up, and… well, Scipio felt a little like a father figure to him, now, not that he would admit it, and Georgie was making him reconsider his stance on children, and the rest of the crew had all slotted themselves into his heart as well, in their own ways. And yet. 

He had thought, after he'd penned the letter to his father and sent it off, that he might finally feel free of his father's grasp on his life, and that he'd feel immediately better and no longer constantly in fear, and everything would be perfect forever. 

And then he'd snapped at Percy when he'd come up to ask Monty if he wanted anything to eat, and Percy had looked so confused and hurt, and Monty had realized how like his father he had sounded, and had rushed to close the door in Percy's face and ignored him when he tried to ask Monty to let him help, until Percy had finally tapped his knuckles against the door in surrender and told Monty he was going downstairs. 

Maybe, Monty mused, maybe he wasn't made for love. Maybe his father had been right, that no one would ever care about him, maybe all he was made for was quickly, easily forgotten fucks in back alleys or dim clubs, and it was probably only a matter of time until Percy realized it too, until Percy left him, and he couldn't even be upset at the thought, because why _wouldn't_ he? 

Monty was not worth kindness, or care, or love. 

He made a little angry noise, rolling over on his right side, curling up into a tight ball, his arms wrapped around himself and digging his nails into his sides, bad ear pressed into the pillow despite the pain. Percy had stopped playing, and they were all laughing now, trying to see what else he could play. He plucked out a few notes, and Monty wanted to tear the stupid fiddle out of his hands, break it over his knee, he wanted to be alone, he wanted quiet, he wanted to go down and sit with them and laugh with them and see Percy wink at him before he played something upbeat for him. 

He realized he was crying, quietly, tears tracking down his face, his body shuddering with soundless sobs. He was shaking, too, his fingers flexing against his sides, and God, did he hate this. Absently, he realized he hadn't heard the music start up again, but couldn't find it in himself to care about the reason. There was still laughing and loud conversation that Monty couldn't be part of because he was too busy curled up in his room, alone, feeling sorry for himself, crying because his life was good and couldn't be his. 

He shifted, moving his hands into his hair and tugging at the roots roughly. God, he felt pathetic. Even now, even here, with everything just as he wanted it, with no one to take it away from him, he could hear his father's voice, harsh and cold. _Pathetic_ , it called him. _Disgusting,_ it hissed. _Failure_ , it mocked, and Monty clasped his hands over his ear as if it would close them out, a wrecked, noisy sob finally wrenching itself from his throat. He slapped his hands over his mouth, stopped squirming, stayed still, waiting, hoping no one heard him. He _was_ pathetic, though, wasn't he? 

Another beat of silence, save for the chatter outside his window. Percy had started playing again. 

He exhaled shakily, screwing his eyes shut, then jerked up when he heard a knock on his door, one sharp tap. 

The door swung open, and Felicity was stood there, staring at him. He scrubbed at his face with one hand and offered her a half-hearted smile. 

"Something the matter, darling?"

"You've been crying."

"Crying? Moi? Never." His voice cracked on the last syllable and his face flushed with shame. 

She cocked her head at him, like she was studying him, like she could pick his brain apart to figure out what exactly was fucked up about him this time, and it was getting really hard to keep smiling when he felt like he was going out of his mind. 

"I'm fine, sister dearest," he said, sighing and rubbing his face again. 

"You're very clearly not," she started, then paused, "Do you- would you like to talk about it?"

Monty snorted, more at how uncomfortable Felicity looked than anything. She glared in response. "You could have just say you didn't want to," she sniped, and Monty winced, and she looked so suddenly flustered and worried and Monty just wanted to _die_.

"It's not that," he tried, and he felt tired, and angry, now, at himself, for doing this, for making it anyone else's problem, "I'd just really rather be left alone than have my _feelings_ torn into like a bloody medical corpse."

Felicity coughed, straightened her outfit, nodded at him, and left, closing the door firmly behind her. Monty stared after her, regretting the word choice but not that it made her leave. He fell backwards back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling once more. The music had stopped again. 

He yanked his pillow out from under his bed and threw it. It slapped against the wall and dropped onto the floor, and Monty wanted to tear it apart, but more than that, he wanted to tear himself apart, and he wanted a drink, and he wanted to go out and find someone faceless and nameless to take him apart, and he wanted to die the way his father always thought he would, drunk, alone, in a gutter. 

He had started crying again, and he sat up, curling up around his knees and sobbing in earnest this time, shaking all over as he tried to bury the sound in his knees, fingers digging scratches into his calves. 

"God, Monty," he heard distantly, and the bed dipped on his left side, and when he looked over through blurry eyes, Percy was sat there, hands hovering in the air like he didn't know what to do. Monty cried harder, which he didn't think was possible, trying to push away from him, stumbling to his feet and towards the window, propping himself against the wall before he fell against it, curling up and sobbing into his knees. Percy didn't follow, watched him from the bed, one hand still hovering in the air.

"Go away," Monty choked out between sobs, fully aware of how pathetic and petulant he sounded, an absolute _brat_. 

Percy, ever the saint, didn't leave, instead making his way over to Monty and sitting against the wall next to him. He gently tapped his shoulder against Monty's.

"I said go _away_."

"Felicity sent me. What happened?" Percy asked, and his voice was gentle, and soft, and low, and sweet, and Monty absolutely didn't deserve this, didn't deserve this kind, gorgeous man sat on the floor beside him. 

He decided not to respond, instead sliding across the floor a little to get away from Percy. Percy let him go. 

"Ok," Percy said, finally, and Monty shook his head, though he didn't know at what or why. Percy should've left. Percy should've left years ago, actually, before Monty's huge spiral, before Monty could've dragged him into this, before Monty could hurt him more, and more, over and over and over again, because Monty knew, he knew it in his bones, that all he was good for, and all he was ever going to be good for, was leeching off of everyone around him and using them and using them until they had nothing left to give. His father had said much the same. When had he ever lied to him? Henri Montague was nothing if not brutally honest. 

"Nothing happened," he spat out, and Percy looked over, and his huge dark eyes were so full of- of pity, of course Percy felt pity, because Monty was _pathetic_. "I don't know why you're here, frankly, when you could be out there with Scipio and- and Georgie and Ebrahim and all since you're so much happier with them than you could ever be with me, clearly."

"Monty."

"Why didn't you _leave_ , Percy, years ago, before all of this- everyone else did, everyone else did, everyone else realized I was a lost cause and too- too broken, and wrong, and horrible to bother being around, to bother suffering through, but you- and I put you through worse than everyone else," an ugly laugh bubbled out of his throat at that, pushing through the sobs, "and you're still bloody here, like it didn't matter, like I never- like I was-"

Percy, perfect, sweet, darling Percy, didn't interrupt him when he trailed off into another fit of aggressive sobs. 

"You deserve- much better than me, you deserve so much better, you deserve-" he hiccuped, scrubbed at his eyes so he could look at Percy and make sure he felt the impact of his words, "everything, Perce, you wonderful, beautiful bastard, and you're- you're here, on the floor with me, while I absolutely lose my mind because- because-"

He made a frustrated little noise, grabbed at his hair, pulling it roughly, and buried his face in his knees. He took a deep breath, tried to steady his breathing. 

"Everything's so bleeding perfect right now, Percy," he said, and he hated how broken and sad and _honest_ he sounded. 

"Oh, Monty," Percy said, and he moved closer again, pressing his side against Monty's, his hands hovering over him like he wasn't sure if it was ok to touch him at all. Monty buried his face into Percy's shoulder, so he wrapped his arms around him, pressed a kiss to the top of Monty's head as he pulled him into his lap, cradling him gently. Monty was still shaking, his fingers curling in Percy's shirt, holding him close. "You deserve this, Monty, you deserve to be happy, you know."

And Monty wanted to shout no, wanted to list all the reasons he didn't, how he'd set himself up for failure, how it was his own fault his father hated him, how he'd systematically ruined every relationship he had, how he was the sole cause of his life's miseries, and if he'd just been- a better son, a better brother, a better _friend_ \- but all that came out was a pathetic whimper as he curled further into Percy's touch. 

One of Percy's hands found its way into Monty's hair, gently carding through it, the pressure and feel of it calming and repetitive and perfect, and Monty timed his breaths to the back and forth of it, calming down slowly. He shuddered again, like his body was shaking it off, before he felt more ok, and he pushed himself off Percy's chest to look him in the eye. 

"I'm sorry, darling, but that's wholly untrue," he said, voice tired and rough. He pressed a hand against Percy's cheek, cradling it in his palm like it was a precious jewel (and to him, it might as well have been). Percy leant into the touch, turned his face into it and pressing a kiss to Monty's palm, humming in thought, his eyes closed. "You, on the other hand-"

"Don't," Percy said, and Monty listened, and shut up, just watching Percy. His eyes were still shut, his lips still a breath away from Monty's palm, so open and trusting it made Monty's chest ache. 

"I love you," he said, quiet, reverent, like a prayer. 

Percy's eyes opened at that, watching him gently. "I love you too. How are you feeling?"

Monty nodded. "Better, I suppose."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Monty sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, worried it for a second, and then let it go. "Not particularly."

"Later, though, please?"

It was hard saying no to Percy. 

"Alright." He drummed his fingers against Percy's cheek. "Later." 

**Author's Note:**

> i am so sorry u sat through that, if u noticed anything wrong, don't hesitate to flame me in the comments


End file.
